


life indeed is a shit tornado full of spikes

by thegreatdeprussian



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, heta
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, I Don't Even Know, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M, divorced spaus, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22115371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatdeprussian/pseuds/thegreatdeprussian
Summary: In which Roderich is a sex and relationship therapist and mistakes Gilbert, a plumber he hired, for his client.(also based from an episode in sex education)
Relationships: Austria/Prussia (Hetalia), Austria/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	life indeed is a shit tornado full of spikes

" _Bastard_." The silence hovering around the four corners of the sala is replaced by a hiss escaping the lips of a certain Austrian. "Goddamn trickster, and bastard."

It was only a few minutes since the sun rose up in the sky and the warm breeze proved suiting for a fresh cup of coffee. _Fresh_ —that was initially before a package arrived at Roderich Edelstein's home. 

"How dare he have the nerve to send this worthless piece of garbage to me?!"

Inside the package was a hardcopy of a newly-published book, titled as _You made me the man I am_ , and written by his former husband, _Antonio Carriedo_. Apart from being a no-good (according to Roderich), amateur writer, he held himself in a way that gave him a reputation of a 21st Century Spanish Casanova. 

"He has the audacity to play the victim card and yell it to the whole world by writing a novel version of Ariana Grande's thank u, next?! Congratulations!" His hands quivered as he grasped the cover of the book. "You made me the man I am, my ass!"

Roderich harshly threw the book to the ground (where it belongs)—struggling to keep himself from stepping over it again and again. After all, and despite the chaos of their relationship, the house he currently lives in was only an agreement of their divorce. Antonio, with all the menace hiding behind his smile, took this as an opportunity to build the house in the middle of a salt marsh and use salt water for the plumbing.

"What a load of bullcrap!"

Roderich was on his way to unleashing his frustration by either playing the piano or reciting a dramatic monologue when his doorbell rang—signalling the arrival of his first client. He instantly smoothed the crease formed from the folds of his sleeves, fixing his composure during the process. 

He adjusted his glasses and walked towards the front door, contemplating about the punctuality of his first client. Every other day, those who come for his consultation arrives around lunchtime, and rarely before breakfast. 

"'Morning!" A pair of red irises greeted Roderich the moment he opened the door, and he found himself electrified at the unique color. It took him a moment to investigate the man's hair. _Is it silver? a lighter shade of silver? or white?_

"Good morning to you as well," Roderich ushered the other to enter, with his voice calm and soothing, hiding the lingering annoyance he still feels for his ex-husband. "Please follow me,"

"Wait! I still have to go get my equip—." 

It was too late however, as the dark-haired among the two has proceeded towards his office, leaving the other dumbfounded at the lack of introduction. He folded the sleeves of his plaids and soon followed after his footsteps. 

He was then led to a baroque-inspired hallway. Portraits and landscape paintings aligned the walls of the hall and Gilbert, whose name is not properly introduced to Roderich as of yet, swore he saw Maria Theresa at some point. 

Upon entering the office, Roderich ushered the other to sit, as he sat on another chair directly parallel to the client. My, oh my. _The client_. 

"So, Mr. Oxenstierna, what is your earliest memory of your scrotum?"

And it all went downhill right at that very second.

Chains of obnoxious laughter trailed out from the mistaken client—sending an outburts of confusion from the therapist. Eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the other clenching their shirt, with lips caught up in snorts and blurts, unable to directly tell the therapist of the misunderstanding.

Roderich breathed heavily to collect his patience, "Is something the matter, sir?"

The laughter died down quite a bit, but it was replaced by a smirk—an annoyingly vicious smirk. "I, uh, where should I begin?" Gilbert folded the end of his sleeves, no longer opting to tell the therapist the truth. After all, where's the thrill in that? He might as well jump into the flow of the discourse. Apologies to the actual client. 

"I had this bird back when I was a child."

". . . alright?" 

Roderich had an innate ability of being able to feign composure in times of frustration, and for this questionable scenario, extreme confusion. Apart from this being a skill most likely not only mastered by him, it is also a code of professionalism. In a less formal phrasing, do not kink-shame.

"I always had it with me," Gilbert continued, not failing to disrupt the semi-serious atmoshere despite the hilarity underneath, "even when I'm taking a bath."

Roderich halted from his note-taking, readjusting his spectacles and opting for confirmation. "It's . . . not a rubber duck, isn't it?"

"No, it's an actual bird."

"Oh,"

Not wanting to leave an awkward silence, Roderich quickly formulated more questions to fill the empty space but fortunately enough for him, the doorbell rang. 

"My apologies, I have another visitor to attend to. But it will only take a few minutes," 

_Damn, way to cut out the fun._ Gilbert thought, in contrast to what he actually said, "Go ahead, I'll be waiting,"

**⇝♡⇜**

As soon as Roderich opened the front door, he faced a man over a feet taller than him, with a chilling stare behind his own pair of glasses. Strangely enough, he wore a formal suit despite the scorching weather and being hired for a job that requires mobility.

"You're early, Mr. Beilschimdt. Please come i—."

" _Oxenstierna_." The other said in a sullen but stern voice.

Roderich gulped, "Come again?"

"Oxenstierna, my name."

Oxenstierna, Berwald may be a man of few words but the impact of his very presence is enough to draw Roderich into a flabbergasting realisation which he desperately wished came to him a few minutes earlier. 

"O-of course! Allow me to usher you to the living room as I clear my office off . . . misunderstandings."

_Life indeed is a shit tornado full of spikes._

**Author's Note:**

> Roderich is so close to having a mental breakdown and honestly, same.
> 
> Also, extra trivia but the house Roderich lives in is based on the Plum Island Pink House. A lady forced her ex-husband to build a replica of their family home as part of the divorce settlement. She didn't specify the location, so he built it in the middle of a salt marsh and plumbed it solely with salt water. It's uninhabitable.
> 
> Roderich & Antonio, best divorced couple ever.


End file.
